Hope and Fear: The 25th Annual Hunger Games
by ABitStrange
Summary: In Panem, it is the first Quarter Quell. This year they will have to vote on their neighbors to go into the Hunger Games. There is darkness arising. "Fear is nothing more than an obstacle that stands in the way of our progress. In overcoming our fears, we can move forward, stronger and wiser than ourselves." -Anonymous
1. Chapter One: The Reaping

**25****th**** Hunger Games Fan Fiction**

**"If you live in fear of the future because of what happened in the past, you'll end up losing what you have in the present."**

I jerk up. The frigid covers of my bed slid over just to slip off, like a person snatching for something that is just out of their grasp. Like an important piece of paper fluttering through the wind, and a small child running for it.

My mother has placed some pink roses on my bedside table; the pot is lightly stripped in lace. I smell them. They smell like the town in the middle of the woods. They enlighten me. They lift my spirits.

I take a soft breath and glance out my window with its chipped wood and altered glass panes. I have never really appreciated how much nicer our things are unlike some of the lower Districts.

My family has one of the nicest houses in my district, District 7. Our job is lumber. We don't tend to get very much attention from the other districts, like 1, 2, and 4 from Tiberius Sterling during the Interviews for the horrific, brutal, and sickening event that is known as The Hunger Games.

I think about the events that will happen today.

Twenty-Five years ago the districts rebelled against the Capitol, thus they made a law, that each year, they will have a pubic reaping, where one boy and one girl will be taken into the custody of the Capitol and taken to a public arena where they will fight to the death. It is the most sickening thing that you could imagine in the world of thoughts and ideas. If you don't come to the reaping or run away **during **the reaping, you will either be executed or become an Avox, a mute slave. And they worst part is, they make us treat it like a show, a prize. If you **do **happen to win, you will be taken to Victors Village where you will be showered with riches and live the fullest life while you watch everyone starve. But you can give people some of your winnings, although.

Some volunteer, but that is a death wish.

Today is a Quarter Quell, a special year in which there is a new twist to the already horrific Hunger Games.

I finally reject the calling of sleep, and instead tough it out and force myself to go get ready for the reaping. I walk out of my tattered door into the family room, the restroom on the other side. _Oh no,_ I think. My younger sister is weeping and my mother is holding her and I can see her holding back tears, setting an example I assume.

"Holly, go. Can't you see your sister shedding tears?" I see her crying, and her tears fall onto her light faded blue dress making marks in it like a scar, perhaps, a scar, of love. I'm about to let my words escape my throat, but I realize **why **she is crying so harshly. She remembers my brother, who was murdered helplessly in the arena. He entered the arena at age fifteen, one year older than I. He was killed by a girl named Mags, who killed him with an awl, which skewered his heart, like ripping a tissue.

"It's ok, Amber," my mother whispers in her voice that tries to calm your soul. "He is still with us."

"How can he be with us if he's **dead?** Huh mom? Can you answer that for me!" my mother has a look of terror streaked across her face. Another tear drops down onto her clothing.

I understand why she is sad, but she has nothing to worry about. You can only enter the games if you are the age of 12 to 18. But Amber is 11. She has nothing to worry about. But me perhaps…

_Creak,_ goes the door that goes out to the forest where my father chops wood, with the handle box next to it. He places the axe on the handle and starts asking questions from here. "What the hell is going on? I heard some screaming and crying and thought the peacekeepers were taking our things away! Are you people crazy?"

"Honey," my mother starts, "Thank you for the firewood. It helps. It really does, just Amber is remembering Phlox." She finishes as she once again chokes back those tears.

My dad is holding them back, I can tell, but he has this annoying reputation to want to be a 'man' and holds back most emotions.

We have a disgustingly dusty television those only display Panem's announcements, and sits on a small wooden table. With this turn of events in my family, it turns on.

Our horrid ruler of Panem appears onto the black and white screen. "Probably the Quell," my father manages.

"As you all know, today is the first Quarter Quell in the history of the Hunger Games." He grins and his paper white hair and face twist slightly in a contorted fashion. A small boy about 10 years old is holding a box. He walks over the Snow, and opens it. You can see many cards, 50th on one, 75th on the other, 100th on the last one that is visible. Look like the government planned many years of the brutal slaughtering. The president takes the card marked 25th and holds it up to his mouth. "There will be no volunteers this year," he starts. "Choose wisely." With a sickly smile the screen flashes and fades.

"What does that mean?" Amber blurts. "I don't know honey," my mother answers. "Let's try not to think about it." I don't want to think about it either. "Alright honey," my father starts. "You know what Amber? I have needed to teach you how to chop wood. Now would be a great time, just a little time till' reaping." I manage an awkward grin. "Dad, but, the reaping," he grabs his axe. "Well, if you don't want to Amber," he stops and sees her crying and walking into her room.

"I'm going. Take it or leave it Holly." He cracks a smile and walks out, letting the winter wind freeze us, letting the hairs on our legs stand up. _Whoosh, _the wind comes in. My mom points out the door. "Go." I put my head down and my mom says that I need to make the lesson quick. Then she grabs my chin and makes me put my head high. "Stop it, you," she mutters.

I trudge out the door and hear the _slam_ it makes behind me. "Looks like you made up your mind," my father says with a smug look on his face while simultaneously making a powerful hacking motion with his axe into the tree. Now I have seen this tree throughout my lifetime. It is next to the tree Phlox, Amber, and myself have had a good time on the tree swing that my father made for my birthday, when I turned nine years old.

For about an hour, he gives me lessons. I like the slight grip of his hands, the tenderness in his voice, little things like that. _HACK, _goes the axe into the tree, my first swing. Father smiles at me, proud of his daughter.

Now, in my district all the houses have backyards without a fence, so people can come as they please, yet there is some privacy with that privilege.

"Holly!" I heard a faint voice from behind me yelp. "Holly, hey, it's Ava!" I look back and see my friend running up to me in her off-white skirt and boots with her blonde hair in a braid that reminds me of Amber's hair style.

"Well, better not embarrass you. Uh, just, are you ready for, um, the reaping?" He says, remembering Phlox. "Yes father, I'll be a moment." I say looking at the sundial as Ava stands next to me. My dad looks at it too, looking so mysterious in the woods, like someone who has been missing there for years, but parents still looking for him. He walks off, but I know soon he will be eavesdropping from the house door that is so ominous in the dark forest. I think I'm alone, but when he walks into the house, he acts as if he has forgotten something. He looks puzzled. "Hey Holly, don't forget the reaping is at 5:00. Its 4:37, so you have to be ready, I will already be there with your mother and Amber," he says with a pause, "I love you."

"Ava, I have to get ready," I say with an awkward look on my face as if I was blowing her off like an unneeded piece of garbage.

She grabs me unexpectedly and puts her frail lips to my ear. "Holly, I'm scared. I can just see my name being drawn today and,"

"Ava. You don't know what being scared is. I am too. But I have seen another person kill someone who was the most important to me. I loved him. And Ava, it's not going to be you." I gulp. "Today is a Quarter Quell," she says like she is speaking through sandpaper, rough and scratchy. "There could be some new rules for all we know. It could all girls whose name starts with **A**. We don't know." I stare her in the eyes. I have known her since we were toddlers; we have practically grown up together. What if it's us? No way, one slip in thousands, I wonder what the trick is this year? "I just want you to know I love you. That's all." She then does something unexpected. She runs, and I am left standing there, like a statue petrified.

I make my way back over to the house and finally get ready. I run by the sundial. It's 4:41. Just enough time to get ready. I brush my hair with a ratty old comb, and pick out some pretty cute shoes topped off with a faded red dress, like the Holly for which I was named.

Amber is still here. My mother is already at the square I assume, since she is nowhere to be found. She is sitting at the table, petrified with fear. If she doesn't come, she will be taken to jail, perhaps put to death.

"We have to go," I sympathise. She shoots me with daggers. "I'm ok. Don't worry. I just, you know, remembered." I realize I'm sweating. "We all do. We have to go before the peacekeepers come and take us away." We head out the doors and go the town square.

As we trudge along we trudge along to the reaping, we see the homeless, sitting on the side of the road. Begging, no, **crying **for help. When Amber and I walk past the houses, we see other families on their porches, and parents lushly whispering thing to their scared children say things like, "Don't worry." Or, "It won't be you." Or special things like, "I love you." We finally get to the Town Square with the Justice Building plopped right behind the stage where the horror starts.

There are these tables according to age, were they take a bit of blood, place it on the paper and hold a device over it to sign you in, no blood on your name, jail, maybe even a death sentence. You have blood on your name? Then you get to have a chance to be slaughtered by twenty-three other people who are bigger, and stronger than you.

Amber squeezes my hand tightly and puts my hand in a vice. I look into her amber-hazel eyes. She looks at my brown-hazel eyes. A tear rolls. I say to her in the last words of encouragement, "Amber, I love you. You're the best sister anyone could have ever had. I know today's a Quarter Quell, but don't worry about me. It **won't** be me.

I tell her to go stand on the perimeter of the square and be with mom and dad who I know will be hugging her tight, as they know what happened years before.

Finally it's my turn at the sign-in desk. Not that I'm excited, but it was taking a while.

"Next please," says the woman. She holds out her hand in a gesture that like, _Hello? Hurry up; I don't have all day you know._ I hesitantly give her my hand. She snatches it, and shocks it with a small device and the blood flows. It dripped onto the parchment, embedding it into the paper. She takes a small tool that makes a humming _buzz_. "Next," she says. I know she is actually saying, _Get out of the way so I can get this dumb job over. _

After I'm done checking in, we have to stand on the ground in front of the horrific stage. I see the Justice Building. It has been cloaked by greens, trees, flowers and life. It looks like an intricate web made of all things that are beautiful. I gaze at it, but then realize where I am. We see the officials come onto stage and sit down.

We all stand in silence. The time where no one thinks, no one speaks, no one breathes. I see Ava on the other side, she doesn't cry, but she has wept.

Then suddenly, our district escort Clovis Overwill trots onto stage, looking as bright and bubbly as always. This year he is sporting a long dark green suit that is colored in sparkles and his stark white hair combed up, but on the right side it flops over in a goofy fashion. He is an extremely tall man, about 6' 8''. He has these green dress shoes that the backs of come out like plumage on a bird, and has a white glove on his right hand. Is that fashion in the Capitol these day? Then again, how would I know?

"Welcome, welcome!" he exclaims. "Happy Hunger Games! And," he says with a pause, "May the odds be **ever **in your favor!" and says with a maniacal grin. Maybe he enjoys watching kids being slaughtered.

Clovis gives Mayor Lea the floor, and she lists all the tornados, hurricanes, floods, and other disasters. "A time for repentance and a time for thanks," she states. She points to these two huge, I mean **gigantic **screens, and a video starts playing upon them. The video explains the rules of the games, why we have the games. She quickly dashes to his chair and sits herself down and stays there like glue. She wears a red dress that reminds me of a savory smelling rose that has been freshly picked.

Clovis swiftly bounces back to the podium, now with two reaping balls. But something strange is here; there are **no **names in the reaping balls. But then I see it. There are these grayish-black tents with crinkled marks on them that have been strategically placed on the sides; boys and girls. What are these for?

"You may have noticed that there are no names in the reaping balls this year," he says, and puts his two clenched hands put to his neck area. "I apologize to this entire district; I'm just so **excited **for this year's games!" he squeals he put his hands down and breathes heavily to calm himself down.

"For this games, or should I say this Quarter Quell, the citizens of the districts have to vote on who would compete in the Hunger Games as a way of reminding the rebels that they are responsible for the Hunger Games, and it is their fault that their children die in the games every year. The peacekeeper will direct you over to the tents," he points at them. "And you will vote on your brethren to see who will have the honor, for representing District 7 in the twenty-fifth year of The Hunger Games!" he claps. No answer. "Choose to not follow these simple directions, and you will be executed immediately." He walks off the stage and makes the same giddy motion with his arms and hands.

The peacekeepers waive this black wand looking things, and direct the boys on the left to the tents, and the girls on the right to their corresponding tents.

I'm in the back of the line, so I have some time to think about this. Clovis' word echo and bobble inside my brain. _Vote on your brethren, _he said. Who will I vote for? I don't necessarily dislike anyone. Then it hits me. A girl, who tortured me, hurt me.

In a primary school, a horrific girl named Vibia bullied me. She was always perfect, had more things than my parents. She had beautiful, flowing blonde hair, always had the best clothes, everything, practically. I hated her ever since that day, I've never spoken to her, avoided her too.

It all happened at lunch. "Holly. Isn't that just the most stupid name ever! What idiot named you that, probably why **you're **an idiot!" her friends giggle like children do. "We all hate you. Why don't you do us **all **a favor and kill yourself!" she laughs like a maniac. I remember the words, every, single, one.

Maybe I'll vote for her. Should I? She may have been raised badly.

I'm up next. A young girl in front of me walks over to my left, back to the front of the stage with her blistering bloodshot eyes and slivers of tears flowing down her face, must've felt horrible about who she was forced to vote for. Was it a family member, a friend? Probably someone she held dear.

I walk into the enclosed black tarp that is the place I will choose. A paper is on a podium inside. I scroll through the names. Glise, no. Rewy? Not a chance. Then I find her, Vibia Elphinstone, written in neat, clear penmanship with a small box next to it. I realize it's so neat, perfect for someone to die. There's this small blue pen next to the paper. I pick it up with my right hand and twirl it with my fingers. Should I vote for her? Hey. May the odds be ever in your favor! Without a shadow of a doubt I check the box quickly and raise my hand up to drop it in and I do without hesitation. The small strip of paper flutters down and shakes back and forth before quietly nesting in the box.

I put my arms together and part the crinkled, black tent door and step out: Like parting the sea.

The light from the sun clashes on my eyes, and stings them, the other people who are waiting patiently. One girl in a red-and-white checker board dress looks like she has gone into shock. Another boy is just staring off into space.

I try to walk quickly, to get in front of the stage again. I see Vibia in front of me. She looks back, around, and sees me. She smirks. My eye twitches. We aren't really supposed to talk during reaping; I can't imagine what she would be saying.

Clovis trots onto the stage.

"Well, well, well!" Clovis sputters and spats. "Wasn't that fun? I can tell you," he cracks up into a small laughter. "Somebody sure _won _this by a landslide!" Two reaping balls are on either side of him. There's only one slip in each ball. He talks into the microphone directly in front of him. "Well, let's get this fun started." Yeah, fun. He stretches his white-right-gloved hand into the girl reaping ball. I remember Phlox. He plucks the slip out like a feather.

He quietly clears his throat. My stomach drops like a stone.

"Holly Perthshire."

I'm falling. I keep falling out of reality. My name is bouncing and bubbling and popping in my head. I crash to the ground. Everyone made a circle around me. Then an empty path connected to the circle, leading up to stage. "Who," I trail off. "Who, who?" I stutter. My voice is screeching like a bat. "Who did it?" I'm yelling now. In the middle of the circle is me. No one is saying a word. No one speaks. I see my Amber and Ava skittering off into the woods.

"Well come on up. What are you waiting for, girl?" laughs Clovis. The peacekeepers rapidly tread towards me. I fall to my knees and weep. One peacekeeper on my right side and one on my left. They grab me by my arms and try to lift me up. I don't budge. My feet are planted into the ground. But they are stronger than me. They drag me up to the stage like a doll. I'm weep, partly because of the reaping. Also because of what Ava and Amber did and what the result is.

As Clovis sees me being forced and pushed up onto the stage and up the steps, he sarcastically remarks, "Well, Holly, wasn't that a," he cringes at my face. "Episode, you could say." The side of his mouth twitches. I see Peacekeepers march where Amber and Ava ran. I cry. They push me in front of the girls reaping ball. I want to fight. It's no use. "And now, for the boys," He remarks. I hate way he smiles at the thought. Oh joy, more horror.

He strides to his left, as plants his feet in front of the male reaping ball. He makes a motion over the boys reaping ball them picks up the slip with his glove.

He pulls the slip out.

Clovis clears his throat quietly.

"Graymore Farwell."

Murmurs flow around below the stage. People look and stare around. The whispers pulse like a wave of water. Boys and girls start to stare at a young boy, with brown hair and a small frame and a light build. The look on his face tells me he knows its him. His face is pale and expressionless. A tear rolls down his cheek. He tilts his head to the side. He falls. He picks himself back up and slowly treads toward the stage to be with me and Clovis.

"I volunteer!" someone yells. I see him. A very tall and strong-looking teenager with dark-brown hair and tanned skin is volunteering for this poor boy. I want to cry at the sight of this. I've done enough crying today. He is shaky. "No!" the boy called Graymore screeches. "Timber, we all know! This is a death wish, not an act of love. Don't do this to me," The bigger boy stands in front of Graymore. He bends down to the smaller boy's level. "You have to go," the larger boy firmly states. "Dad will keep you safe. Now go!" I understand his situation. The reaping's broadcasted to the Capitol and the other tributes will see him cry, to them, a sign of weakness. He can't cry.

Something hits me like a brick to my forehead; Hope. There is none left. I feel vertigo; I know when I will die. It makes me shake uncontrollably. I can't cry. I'm too scared to cry.

He takes those steps slow steps up to the stage. I notice him wobble. He recovers. He almost falls; he catches himself again. He's going to fall. He's getting too close to the tall, long edge of the stage. Clovis makes a motion with his hands to come to him.

Then, this boy who volunteered falls off the stage. He hits his head and comes crashing to the ground. Blood flows onto the green ground. _How,_ I think. What is the reason for this? He has all these hits, cuts and bruises on his arms and legs. He looks like he was beaten every day. Peacekeepers come rushing to his aid. They take him to the side of the stage. One of them take out a syringe, and injects a red liquid into his neck. It's something brewed up in the Capitol labs, so the medicine with take effect almost instantly. He lies for about five minutes on the ground with the attendants at his side. "Excuse us everyone," Clovis rudely remarks. "We are experiencing technical difficulties," The boy, Timber I believe his name is, gets up, and pushes away all the things they are so eager to inject into him. He walks to the stage with a limp. He limps over to Clovis. Everyone stares.

"Let's all have a _round _of applause for this year's tributes, to take part in the twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games!" A pause. Clovis claps for us. No answer back. He looks back and forth at Timber and I like a ball bouncing back and forth. He makes a _Well duh_, kind of face. "Shake hands already!" he says. I hold out my hand. He holds out his. We shake.

I know I'll have to kill him.


	2. Chapter Two: Goodbye

**"Giving u****p doesn't mean that you're weak. Sometimes, you have to be strong enough to let go." -Anonymous**

First the hands. _One_. No, that's not right. _Five_. Then more then I can count. The people in my Districts are paying us respects. It's because they know we are going to die. They make a motion with their three fingers, up and out. I see the fire in their eyes. I glance down at Vibia. She doesn't respect us. I turn to Clovis and Timber and weep. Not to the microphone Clovis bubbles, "Well, well, well! Wasn't that just _fun_!" I realize that Clovis is an idiot. As of this morning, I have developed a strong hatred to him. Is that mean? Oh, well.

The peacekeepers grab us quite violently, shaking us and treating us like _animals_, and take us to a room inside the Justice Building. _What is this room_, I think. I've never seen it, or been here. A peacekeeper grabs the door and crashes it open and pushes my family in with me. "You have three minutes," the man mutters. I don't know what to do. Sit, stand, or cry? Maybe all at the same time. My family keeps gawking at me with wide eyes and open mouths. "What do you want?" I yell at them. "Huh? What! I don't know what to do mom!" Mom walks up to me and grabs me in a hug. She holds for a good solid 10 seconds. She cries slowly in my arms, stopping, then crying again. Dad hugs me. He's strong. It kind of hurts. I guess my parents can't stand to see me like this.

"Do you-you," I stutter horribly. "You guys know what-what happened?" Its cold in this room. I shiver. I'm tired, scared and weak. I'll be an easy target for other tributes. My mother sniffs. "Yes, Holly, we know," he screeches and cries and opens the door and slams it behind her. Dad is still with me in the room. He touches my shoulder with his hand. "Holly," he starts, still holding back tears, "We love you. You're strong. You've always been. You'll come back to us, I just know it."

The peacekeeper opens the door loudly. "Your time is up," he murmurs. "Dad, I love you!" I grab his hand. The peacekeeper man is too strong. He breaks our grip; our love. "I'll miss-" the door slams. I hear a _click. _I slam against the door and push against it with my fists. I can't stop them. The door is unlocked. A peacekeeper walks in a makes a motion with his hand for me to come. I step out. "It's time to go," he states. I nod and stand next to him. Another Peacekeeper comes to my side. I feel like a caged animal, being forced to move. I walk with them escorting me outside to the back of the building. There's the train there. I walk out the door to get on the train. Timber is walking behind us and catches up to us. "Hey," Timber exclaims, "Where are we going?" One of the peacekeepers sees him getting angry, and runs to his side. To make sure he wot escape or run away. "To the Capitol," I say.


	3. Chapter Three: The Mentor

**"Life asked death, "Why do people love me but hate you?" Death responded, "Because you are a beautiful lie, and I am a painful truth." **

**-Neil Gaiman**

Clovis walks in front of me into the door. Instead of running ahead, he offers me his hand up. _How nice_, I think. _Helping a corpse. _I accept the offer and he pulls me up. I hear the steps of my shoes. Clovis opens the door for me. Timber is behind me. I take the first step in.

First, a pulse of light. Second, a deep breathe. My mouth is wide open and my eyes are wide. I see chandeliers, tables and chairs, with foods on them. Little vanilla cakes topped with strawberries on extravagant plastic wrappers, orange hemi-spheres dotted with chocolate swirls, and hot cocoa with marshmallows bubbling and bobbling like the sea. Timber and I are staring. Clovis chuckles. "They're like this _every, single,_ year." He sighs and quickly rushes past us.

Timber breaks the silence. "Were going to be here for a while. Let's get used to it." He walks in front of me, to his room I guess. I clear my throat. I sit down on a white bouncy couch, with a black stand next to it with a white lamp on top of it. Clovis is drinking tea or water or something on the dinning table. I feel a jerk. The train is rolling. I'm gazing off. I don't know what to think. I look at these sliding glass doors at the back of the train with the Capitol symbol. They open slowly, making a clicking sound.

It's Timber, he walks over to me. He sits down on the same couch as me. A little too close. He's a lot bigger than me. He has broad shoulders, from chopping wood for his family, I guess. "You're really small," he says. "Oh really?" I snap. "Thanks, Timber, I had no idea." he opens his mouth about to apologize. "No-no really, Timber. Thanks." I know I'll have no chance of wining the games. He doesn't have to point it out. "Sorry," he replies. "I didn't mean to make you mad, Holly. After all the things that's happened today, I wasn't really thinking." He shakes his head and his dirty blonde hair ruffles. The side of my lip rises. I consider his apology. "No Timber, it's my fault. Sorry I snapped at you." he clears his throat and moves a bit away from me. "It's fine."

The doors slide open again. This time, a man with a light brown beard and black vest walks in. He has a shaped nose and simple features. Who is he? Clovis stands up and greets this man. "Welcome, Blight!" The man nods. "Thank you, Clovis. Nice to see an old friend from my games." Friend? I understand now. This guy is our mentor. "Now, who are our tributes this year? It's a Quarter Quell. Special day." I thought he was at the reaping. Maybe he was too lazy to come. Maybe he couldn't bare to see.

"Our tributes are," Clovis starts, "Holly Perthshire and Timber Farwell." he's going to bring up the volunteering of Timber. "Timber here,_ volunteered_ for his little brother! Doesn't that just warm your heart!" He puts his hand on his heart like it's giving him joy. Blight crosses his arms and looks down at Timber sitting on the couch with me. "Well, Timber that was a brave thing to do," Blight puts his black gloved hand firmly and hard on Timber's shoulder. "Please, please don't touch me." Timber whispers. He cringes and looks like he's going to burst. I don't think Blight heard him. He looks like he's about to cry. "Take your hand off him!" I yell. I startle Blight and Clovis too. Clovis spills his drink. "There's no need to yell," Clovis snaps. "You made me spill my tea! Wood flooring doesn't grow on trees, you know. Oh wait, it does." Timber is lounged over. I see a tear fall on the wooden floors. He's had too much. "Can't you see you're bothering him! Stop now!" Blight jerks his hand back like he'd touched a fire. He might as well have.

"It's-it's just," he's shaking. He runs out of the room stomping on the wooden floor, then silencing once it touches the gray carpet.

"You know what you did?" I glare at Blight. Clovis looks like I'm mad at him. I look up at Blight. "One of his parents were _abusive!_ I can tell. Blight is too much of an _idiot _to realize that!" Blight walks up to me. "_Girl, _I could snap your little neck in the arena like I did to that kid from District 11. You want that?" He grins deviously at me. He really could kill me. He really could. It's getting late.

I hate Blight so much I could kill him. I might. I hate everything about him.

I stomp on Blight's foot and he grimaces in pain. I storm out of the room. I'm just defending Timber. "Well, then," Clovis says with a sip of his tea.

Part of me wishes I didn't do that. I jump into the sweet, purple, luscious sheets on my bed.

He'll probably kill me in my sleep. If he does, it won't be all that bad.


	4. Chapter Four: The Avox

**"Family isn't about whose blood you carry. It's about who you _love _and who _loves _you back." -Unknown**

"_Holly_."

"Holly, get up," this time more stern. I pull up my covers. The light from the window stings my eyes. I wince. Timber is the one who woke me up. He grabs my hand and pulls it. _He's holding my hand. My hand._ He pulls me up to get out of the heavy covers. Ok, ok. I thought he was holding my hand. I stretch. "You better get ready," he says. "Were here." He walks out. I get up out of bed and rip the sheets off of me. I change into a nice green skirt with a belt around it and some cute white laced flats.

The sliding door opens for me.

Clovis and Blight are on the couch, deep in conversation. Clovis is wearing a blue button-up shirt and slacks, and Blight wears some black attire and a gray fedora. Clovis talking about God knows what, and Blight listening. It's more of a one-sided conversation. Blight really doesn't look like he cares, honestly. I yawn and raise my arms really hard. They fall like feathers. I rub my eyes hard. I open my eyes and I see purple spot blot my vision. It looks like ink, or someone took a pen and scribbled my eyes.

Timber walks out the sliding doors, wearing a white shirt and pants. I don't pay much attention to his appearance.

"Morning Holly," he says, then mutters something about a dream. "Good morning to you too," I blurt. I'm sort of out of it this morning. Clovis jumps up and leaves Blight on the couch and runs over to Timber. He grins from ear. Clovis is adjusting his shirt, little annoying stuff like that. It seems to bother Timber. Clovis is acting like a mother on reaping day, trying to get her child ready. Moving things here and there. Clovis takes a tiny lick of his thumb to get his finger wet, and moves the top of his hair. Gross. I make a face in disgust. Timber has had too much. He swats Clovis' hand away. Timber makes a stern face at him.

"_Well,_" Clovis says. He looks offended. He storms off through the doors. Blight is looking at him. Before he struts away, he says, "Just trying to help _my tributes._" _My tributes? _He didn't help me. He doesn't even own me! I'm not his. He doesn't know what he's talking about.

Blight gets up and walks over to Timber. "Sorry about that, Timber," he starts awkwardly. "Clovis just wanted to help. He told me you guys wouldn't look presentable to the Capitol. Anyways," his eyebrow jerks. "We need some breakfast. It's 9:17. Were going to be at the Capitol in about two hours." Blight claps.

When I see them walk in, my heart stops. Two people, wearing red outfits that cover their entire body with a circle of fabric around their neck walk out a door in the back of the kitchen. Two girls. Then it hits me. _Amber and Ava are our_ Avoxes.

A tear falls on the table when I sit down. Amber stifles a cry. Ava is still. If they show any emotion, they will_ be punished. They will be **punished**. _I was to cry and hug them and love them but _I can't._ Ava has her hair up in a ponytail, curled up in a perfect shape. The other, my sister, has her hair down. They keep staring at me. Their eyes seem to be tinted red. Their heads are tilted down. Still staring. They will be at the Training Center too. Oh, joy.

"Holly," Timber chokes to say. "Isn't that-" It is. I won't tell him. He doesn't need to know. It's none of his business. Ava and Amber rush off, only to return with plates of steaming, delicious, juicy foods. It makes my mouth water. They set things down quicker than lightning. I have to get over Ava and Amber. I have to. _I have to._

After everything is down, they leave. They vanish like ghosts. They are gone; just like that. Don't dwell on my dumb thoughts.

"Everyone seems to be having a good morning," I chirp. Nobody knows about our Avoxes. _Except for me. _Well. That brings some tears.

We have chocolates that are dazzled with vanilla strips and strawberry squares. There is bread that is covered with red syrup; or a sauce of some kind at that. There's also some apples glazed with honey, but the honey is solid. I grab it and pick it up. It doesn't stick. "Dig in everyone!" Blight exclaims. Timber take a bite of pancake. He gets some syrup on his face, and I don't think he notices.

I take a crisp crunch of the apple, and luscious taste explodes into my mouth. It feels and smells like a river of juices and flavor is rushing into my mouth.

The train lurches. It slows down a bit.

From the table I look over to the windows. I see a humungous city with lights and fancy pathways and streets and strange looking people walking on them. I know where we are. Clovis walks out the doors and announces to everyone:

"We are at the _Capitol_!"


	5. Chapter Five: The Stylists

**"Be strong, because things will get better. It may be stormy now but it can't rain forever." -Unknown**

The first thing that startled me was the citizens. Everyone on the taupe train station then ran up to the window to see us. They are the people who will sponsor us this games, or the people who will be watching. They claw at the clear train window like a rabid animal reaching out of a cage for food. Clovis pushes through Timber and I rudely.

He makes a slight wave with his right hand and tears seem to be spouting from his eyes. He is really getting sad, he's not faking it or anything.

He makes a quick and just turn to his right so he is facing out, his back to the clear and perfect window. He puts his left hand on my shoulder and his right hand on Timber's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he sputters into tears. "I'm just so proud of my tributes." _Proud of us? _We haven't done anything to even make him proud. Not yet, and not to mention he doesn't own us.

He looks back and forth between Timber and I. He goes and sits on the couch with a twist of his hip, and gets a Kleenex and daps his eyes like cleaning a spill off the floor. He acts like it's a ravenous and justly move.

"You two-" Clovis starts. He swallows. "You two better wave. You'll get sponsors." So we do. I start to wave, and Timber joins in. I feel like I'm dragging him along for this. After we wave for a bit, Clovis says, "Alright you two, that's enough. Plus, were here." We back away from the window that was our source of light.

Then suddenly it goes dark.

I look at the window wondering was caused this. _Flash, _goes the light. _Flash, flash. _It fades.

The train slows down.

It stops.

This other set of doors slides open, and we can step out to see a gray, metallic Capitol stylists and workers cleaning, brushing, and scrubbing tributes. Peacekeepers walk up to us and grab Timber and I. They are so strong, I thrash and weep but it doesn't help. Timber stays calm and still. Strange. Inside the train still, they hold us up and they have a long, sharp needle filled with a ominous black liquid that seems to **_move_. **But that can't be, maybe they were moving in. They hold it to my neck and pull the plunger.

I black out.

. . .

My eye lids flutter open like a butterfly. Someone is _touching_ me. Like I'm sure Timber is, I don't enjoy it when people touch me. I feel a brush swerving and scraping my leg. I look for who the culprit is. I'm laying down on a table, and I'm in a blue robe. The person who was making that uncomfortable motion was a woman with red-purple hair that droops down in lines, and large black lips with brown skin like a coffee bean. She sees what I am doing and smiles. "Cleaning you up," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. But somehow it's polite, which flusters me. Her silly Capitol accent really showed up there. "Sorry I had to use the hard bristles, Holly," _Who is she and how does she know my name? _"Your just so dirty." That was rude for someone trying to make my last days memorable. "What is _your _name if you know mine so well?" I snap.

"My name," she whispers, "Is Gwen. I'm part of your prep team. Sierra and Aaron are somewhere around here," She looks around quietly with her hair whipping me. On cue, a man and woman walk over. She points to the man on the right. I sit up, letting my legs dangle over the table that is lighting up from the bottom. "This here is Aaron," Gwen says. The man has blonde hair and a white suit. He is very tall and looks like he enjoys his job. His hair is straight and gelled in the front. He grins at me with a shining smile that makes my heart melt. "Hello, Holly," he says in a tenor tone of voice. He grabs my hand and shakes it. I smile back at him and I immediately crush on him. I don't know how, or why, but I feel deep down in my heart, he likes _me too._

"Meet Sierra," utters Gwen with a blink of her eyes. "Hi!" says a girl with white skin, and a beautiful face. She has blonde-brown hair that falls in loops and wreathes around her head, and curls at the bottom, almost looking like a halo. She looks so bubbly and bright. "I'm so exited to meet you!" She acts like a giddy child. She's really sweet although, and I'm warming up to her. She makes me feel, oh, what's the word- _enlightened. _"Nice to meet you Sierra," I say to her. "Sorry, it's hard to contain myself when I meet new tributes! I just get so exited," Sierra says as she trails off. Sierra and Aaron stand next to each other and smile at me. They look, so, _alike._ I tilt my head and wonder. "Holly," Aaron says, "Sierra and I are brother and sister by the way. And it seems you have noticed we are twins. "Yes, I have," I say, trying not to make a fool out of myself.

Everyone is walking around me looking at my body. Around and around. Aaron pokes the bottom of my back and writes it on a clipboard that he's picked up. "Ow," I mutter. "Holly, you have a fine skin tone. We need to make that pop!" exclaims Sierra with a bursting hand motion.

"Ok," I mutter. "I've never really been obsessed with beauty." Sierra giggles because she knows that's silly to say in the Capitol, Aaron grins at her. They all look at each other like they are planning something, like wolves ready to attack.

They walk back with me still on the table and a glass door whistles and slams, unexpectedly on my part, they smile.

"It's time for you to meet your head stylist," Gwen says.

"His name," she murmers, "Is Venture Jackson."

Then it goes dark.


End file.
